Chapter Text
Next day they decided to head down into the lush, sunlit meadowlands to visit Auntie Ethel, in the hopes that she might be able to help. Shadowheart and Gale had opted to stay in camp and work on brewing potions and scribing some scrolls, ready for when they reached the goblin camp. That left Astarion, Karlach, Wyll and Lae'zel, along with Sorcha herself, to locate the woman's dwelling.
It was truly beautiful here. Insects buzzed lazily, vibrant flowers dotted the grasses, everywhere she looked there was dappled sunlight and verdant, burgeoning, plant life.
The calm was interrupted by raised voices. This was getting to be an annoying habit, did anyone ever just relax around here?
"Do you harass every old woman you meet?" a voice screeched. A muffled male voice answered.
The old woman, Ethel, was being confronted by two younger men armed with farming implements. Perhaps she could sort this out and get a discount on the healing services from Ethel.
Sorcha stepped up. "What's going on here? How about we all calm down and you tell me what's happening?"
A red headed man, aggressively waving a pitchfork, growled "Our sister went to the hag and we ain't seen her since."
"You can't just go around accusing old women of being hags!" Sorcha exclaimed. "I know this lady, she's a healer."
The younger man immediately yelled "She's with the hag!" and the two charged at the party. Rather unwisely, they charged straight for Karlach and Lae'zel, who dispatched them with only minor effort.
"Chk!" spat Lae'zel in disgust. "If these puny humans were really needing to deal with a hag they would not have fared any better!"
"Oh my stars!" Ethel cried, her face creased with concern. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen! Come visit me at my teahouse, petal, and I'll reward you properly for saving me," she added, before vanishing in a puff of green smoke.
"Have we been fooled?" Sorcha asked, frowning. "There's certainly more to that one than meets the eye."
"Well, if she really is a hag then we should steer well clear," insisted Astarion.
"We should at least have a little look," chimed in Wyll. "After all, if she's taken a girl and is holding her in some sort of thrall then we should probably rescue her."
Sorcha shook her head. "Might I remind you that we have urgent problems of our own? Hag or no, she's not going to help us if we storm in there waving swords and threats about. I say we proceed cautiously and don't make up our minds ahead of time."
Astarion agreed. "Well said, darling. I knew there was some sense in that pretty little head of yours."
Tymora, give me strength. If he wasn't so damn useful I'd just blast him into the swamp.
Lae'zel pushed him forward. "Tsk'va! May Vlaakith give me strength if I have to listen to more of your nonsense, Astarion."
They continued down towards the beckoning wetlands. Frogs chirped in chorus, brilliant birds swooped past in a jewelled blur. A fresh, green grassy smell was interspersed with the scent of fragrant flowers. Fluffy white sheep gambolled on the hillocks. It was all quite, quite lovely.
Despite this, Sorcha felt a touch of alarm in the back of her mind. Something, somewhere, was not quite right. She tried to remember what she knew about hags.
"Fey illusion magic," she said suddenly, stopping dead. "None of this is real."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," said Astarion. "Can't you just enjoy something nice without freaking out for once?"
"Hush," she insisted. She drew in a calming breath, closed her eyes for a moment and opened them willing her magic to show the truth.
The lovely verdant meadows and charming pools melted away, replaced by a stinking swamp, reeking of rot. Clouds of marsh gas obscured the ground and the sky was overcast, a leaden grey. Redcaps lurked on the pathways, weaving in amongst them, bellowing "Baa!" at intervals.
One stopped in front of Sorcha, a warty little fey with a surprisingly deep "Baa". He seemed to be waiting for some acknowledgement of his sheepiness.
She took a breath and said "Baa!" back at him. The creature seemed satisfied and wandered off again.
"Baa!" growled Karlach, before dissolving into laughter.
Sorcha really didn't want to deal with the hag right now, so she suggested taking another path which led around some of the fetid pools and towards an island she had made out in the distance. It wasn't long before Astarion stopped them again.
"More blood. Lots of it," he warned.
They proceeded with caution and found an abandoned camp completely covered in gore. A bloodbath had taken place while some unlucky travellers had been resting.
Wyll looked grave. "I reckon this was the work of those redcaps. They're generally nasty, bloodthirsty little things, this has all their hallmarks."
"We should probably deal with them before going further," Karlach suggested. "Not something I'd like to have at my back if any of us were wounded."
It was a sensible suggestion so the group headed back to a hillock just on the edge of where the redcaps were loitering.
"Baa! Hiss!" Another redcap greeted them.
"You're not a sheep," laughed Sorcha.
"Gaah! Nosy, scum-sucking, lice-ridden little ball-bag. Get outs! Or I bites tongue. Eats tongue. Delicious tongue." the creature screamed.
"No chance," she said, walking towards it.
"I bleed you. Cut you. Make many delicious holes, yes, yes!" it hissed.
"You like holes do you? We can help with that," she retorted and cast Shocking Grasp on the fey, momentarily stunning it.
The other redcaps began rushing towards them, screaming murderous threats. As each one reached the top of the hill, Karlach and Lae'zel picked them up and threw them into their onrushing siblings.
Sorcha was too busy laughing at this to concentrate, but Wyll was blasting them from a distance and Astarion's bow was, as ever, accurate, so she really wasn't needed.
"That," she giggled, "was the most fun I've had in ages!"
Now that they had secured the rear, the party returned to the edge of the swamp and hopped from rock to rock, hoping to reach the island. It had an interesting looking ruined arch, which suggested the possibility of treasure to Sorcha, and a warped, blasted tree in the centre of some ancient paving. The entire area looked long abandoned.
"Hang on," Astarion said. "A dock … I'm sure I saw something earlier …"
He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a tattered note, the one he had liberated from the druids' sleeping quarters. "This mentions a swamp-dock, and a meeting with Kagha."
"I wonder what she'd been doing all the way out here," Sorcha mused. "Something to hide from the other druids perhaps?"
They leapt over to the central area, and were immediately set upon by a gaggle of mephits.
Sorcha hit two of them with a frozen ray, slowing them down, as Wyll knocked one back with his eldritch blast. Karlach roared and went straight for her trusty throwing tactic, pummelling one mephit with the body of another. As the mephit died, it exploded in a shower of mud and Astarion gave an anguished scream.
"Mud everywhere! Just look at me! My hair is ruined!" he howled. He ran back from the other mephits and started firing thunder arrows to keep them back.
Lae'zel had dashed around the opposite side and had run into what looked like a walking tree. It had her in some sort of holding spell, her legs entwined in vines, but she was hacking at it with her flaming sword. Another tree creature loomed behind her.
It looked like fire would beat back those vines, so Lae'zel had that covered. Sorcha concentrated on the tree things instead, sending twin orbs of lightning to scorch them until they dropped.
Afterwards, Sorcha had the rare opportunity to open a chest before Astarion got to it. He was still bemoaning the mud and the state of his wardrobe. She shook her head and cast prestidigitation just to shut him up.
Wyll had been examining the other side of the tree. He reached into a hollow, triumphantly pulling out a folded note. The note indicated that Kagha was planning a takeover of the grove and wished to align it to some shadow druids from Cloakwood. She'd probably just been waiting for a chance to take over, long before their leading druid vanished.
"We should take this back to the grove, see if we can stop that damned ritual and save the tieflings," Wyll insisted.
"I agree," Sorcha said, "We already need to return to see Dammon. But first I want to scout out around Ethel's house, get the lie of the land and see if she really is a hag. Let's walk back up the other path to this teahouse."
They picked their way back through the swamp, reaching a handy way portal where they stopped to rest and recover a little. They saw the teahouse ahead, a rotting and rickety building that looked entirely at home in the middle of a swamp. It looked as if a swift kick would cause the entire thing to collapse in a pile of mildew. An upward leading path gave them the chance to overlook the building from afar.
A foul smell assaulted their noses, cutting through even the rot of the swamp, no mean feat. A tall human with long, braided hair was up ahead, armed with a crossbow.
He greeted them with "Apologies for the smell, travellers. Powdered ironvine, an old hunter's trick."
"Oh, and what are you hunting?" Wyll asked curiously.
"Something terrifying, no doubt," chipped in Astarion. "Dragon, ogre, kobold?"
"Far from it," the man replied. "I'm hunting a vampire spawn. His name's Astarion, and I'm hoping the hag of these lands can assist me."
Astarion glanced at her nervously.
Well, that establishes Ethel's identity. Can't have him killing Astarion though, I've plans of my own for him.
"Working with a hag seems like a bad idea," she said. "Why are you hunting a spawn anyway? Surely a real vampire would be a better challenge?"
"I'm to capture him and bring him back to my people at Baldur's Gate," the man explained. "But spawn are only weak when compared to their masters, you should still be on your guard at nightfall."
"Well, good luck with that. Time for us to go!" she said, turning away.
"Wait!" Astarion interrupted. "Surely we should do something about this threat?"
"He's right," the man agreed. "You should take precautions for your own safety."
Sorcha sighed. "Very well, Astarion, if you must," and turned back, casting a bone chill cantrip on the man.
"Astarion?" the hunter exclaimed. "It can't be!"
The man was very quick, dodging out of the way and aiming his bow straight at Astarion, hitting him directly in the chest before hurling an acid flask at Sorcha. Karlach leapt in between the hunter and his quarry, aiming a spear, while Lae'zel moved in with her greatsword. Only Wyll paused, looking between Astarion and the man, a look of indecision on his face.
"Wyll!" Sorcha yelled. "Fight or bleed, now, dammit!"
He finally moved, blasting with an eldritch ray before moving in with his rapier.
Astarion was still pinned by a crossbow bolt, but managed to retaliate with a fire cantrip before downing a quick healing potion. It was lucky that the hunter had been surprised and had started off on the back foot as his skills would have well outmatched theirs if he had been prepared. Lae'zel swung her sword and took out his legs, as another spear from Karlach hit him square in the chest. He dropped to the ground, still looking shocked.
Sorcha stalked up to Wyll, grabbing him by the collar.
"What in all the hells was that? Your hesitation almost got us all killed!"
"He was a monster hunter, just like me," Wyll explained.
"NO! He was a monster hunter and you, me, Astarion and everyone else in this damn party are monsters to be," she screamed into his face. "You'd better damn well apologise to Astarion right now or I'm taking you down myself. Remember which side you're actually on!"
She stomped off and waited, scowling, for Wyll to apologise.
A subdued Wyll went over to Astarion. "I'm truly sorry. It won't happen again. I swear by my blade that I will protect you in future." He handed over a large healing potion and assisted with removal of the arrow.
Sorcha breathed a silent sigh of relief that this had resolved without further bloodshed, and they limped back to the portal, leaving the hag's lair for now and returning to the Grove.